My purpose in this study is to clarify the function of climate as
a factor within the structure of human existence. So my problem is not that of the ordering of man's life by his natural environment. Natural environment is usually understood as an objective extension of "human climate" regarded as a concrete basis. But when we come to consider the relationship between this and human life, the latter is already objectified, with the result that we find ourselves examin- ing the relation between object and object, and there is no link with subjective human existence. It is the latter that is my concern here, for it is essential to my position that the phenomena of climate are treated as expressions of subjective human existence and not of natural environment. I should lik.e at the outset to register my protest against this confusion. It was in the early summer of 1927 when I was reading Heideg- ger's Zein und Seit in Berlin that I first came to reflect on the problem of climate. I found myself intrigued by the attempt to treat the structure of man's existence in terms of time but I found it hard to see why, when time had thus been made to play a part in the struc- ture of subjective existence, at the same juncture space also was not postulated as part of the basic structure of existence. Indeed it would be a mistake to allege that space is never taken into account in Heidegger's thinking, for Lebendige NatuT was given fresh life by the German Romantics, yet even so it tended to be almost obscured in the face of the strong glare to which time was exposed. I perceived that herein lay the limitations of Heidegger's work. for time not linked with space is not time in the true sense and Heidegger stopped short at this point because his Dasein was the Dasein of the individual v only. He treated human existence as being the existence of a man. From the standpoint of the dual structure-both individual and social- of human existence, he did not advance beyond an abstraction of a single aspect. But it is only when human existence is treated in terms of its concrete duality that time and space are linked and that history also (which never appears fully in Heidegger) is first revealed in its true guise. And at the same time the connection between history and climate becomes evident. It may well be that this problem presented itself to me because it was precisely when my mind was full of a variety of impressions about climate that I was confronted with a detailed examination of the question of time. But again, it was precisely in that this problem did present itself that I was made to ruminate over and to concentrate my attention on my impressions about climate. In this sense it would be fair to argue that for my part it was the problems of time and history that brought a realization of the question of climate. Had not these problems acted as intermediaries, my impressions of climate would have stayed simply as such, mere impressions of climate. And, in fact, the intermediary function that these considerations fulfilled indicates the connection between climate and history. In the main, this work. is based on notes for lectures given over the period September 1928 to March 1929. This series was given very soon after my return from my travels outside Japan with the result that, in that I had no leisure to reflect in detail on the problems of time and space in human existence, I took up for discussion only the consideration of climate. The greater part of the contents of this book have been published piecemeal, with my original lecture notes written up and revised as the occasion arose, and only the last chapter retains its basic format. From the outset, the several problems were considered as intimately inter-related and though I am fully conscious that there still remain considerable deficiencies, I have vi .... 10 W decided for the present to put my thoughts together and publish. I should be gratefull for my colleagues' criticisms and suggestions. August 1935 I have taken the opportunity of this re-edition to revise the section on China in Chapter Three which was written in 1928, when leftist thinking was very prevalent. I have eliminated traces of leftist theory and now present this chapter as a pure study of climate. November 1943 vii Chapter 1 The Basic Principles of Climate ( 1 ) The Phenomena of Climate I use our word Fu-do, which means literally. "Wind and Earth", as a general term for the natural environment of a given land, its climate, its weather, the geological and productive nature of the soil, its topographic and scenic features. The ancient term for this concept was Sui-do, which might be literally translated as "Water and Earth", Behind these terms lies the ancient view of Nature as man's environ- ment compounded of earth, water, fire. and wind. It is not without reason that I wish to treat this natural environment of man not as "nature" but as "climate" in the above sense, But in order to clarify my reason. I must, in the first place, deal with the phenomenon of climate. All of us live on a given land and the natural environment of this land "environs" us whether we like it or not, People usually discern this natural environment in the form of natural phenomena of various kinds, and accordingly concern themselves with the in8uences which such a natural environment exercises upon "us"-in some cases upon "us" as biological and physiological objects and in other cases upon "us" as being engaged in practical activities such as the forma- tion of a polity, Each of these influences is complicated enough to demand specialized study, However, what I am here concerned with is whether the climate we experience in daily life is to be regarded as a natural phenomenon. It is proper that natural science should treat climate as a natural phenomenon. but it is another question whether the phenomena of climate are in essence objects of natural science. By way of clarifying this question. let me quote as an example the phenomenon of cold, which is merely one dement within climate. 2 CHAPTER I THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLl:\IATE CHAPTER I THE BASIC PRINCIPl.ES OF CLIMATE 3 and is something distinct and evident as far as our common sense is concerned. It is an undeniable fact that we feel cold. But what is this cold that we feel? Is it that air of a certain temperature, cold, that is, as a physical object, stimulates the sensory organs in our body so that we as psychological subjects experience it as a certain set mental state? If so, it follows that the "cold" and "we" exist as separate and independent entities in such a manner that only when the cold presses upon us from outside is there created an "intentional" or directional relationship by which "we feel the cold". If this is the case, it is natural that this should be conceived in terms of the in- fluence of the cold upon us. But is this really so? How can we know the independent existence of the cold before we feel cold? It is impossible. It is by feeling cold, that we discover the cold. It is simply by mistaking the inten- tional relationship that we consider that the cold is pressing in on us from outside. It is not true that the intentional relationship is set up only when an object presses from outside. As far as individual consciousness is concerned, the subject possesses the intentional structure within itself and itself "directs itself towards something". The "feel- ing" of "feeling the cold" is not a "point" which establishes a relation- ship directed at the cold, but it is in itself a relationship in virtue of its "feeling" and it is in this relationship that we discover cold. The intentionality of such a relational structure is thus a structure of the subject in relation with the cold. The fact that "We feel the cold" is, first and foremost, an "intentional experience" of this kind. But, it may be argued, if this is the case, is not the cold merely a moment of subjective experience? The cold thus discovered is cold limited to the sphere of the "I". But what we call the cold is a transcendental object outside the "1", and not a mere feeling of the "I". Now how can a subjective experience establish a relation with such a transcendental object? in other words, how can the feeling of cold relate itself to the coldness of the outside air? This question involves a misunderstanding with regard to the object of the intention in the intentional relationship. The object of intention is not a mental entity. It is not cold as an experience independent of objective cold that is the intentional object. When we feel the cold, it is not the "feeling" of cold that we feel, but the "coldness of the air" or the "cold". In other words, the cold felt in intentional experience is not subjective but objective. It may be said, therefore, that an in- tentional relation in which we feel the cold is itself related to the coldness of the air. The cold as a transcendental existence only exists in this intentionality. Therefore, there can be no problem of the relationship of the feeling of cold to the coldness of the air. According to this view, the usual distinction between subject and object, or more particularly the distinction between "the cold" and the "I" independently of each other, involves a certain misunderstand- ing. When we feel cold, we ourselves are already in the coldness of the outside air. That we come into relation with the cold means that we are outside in the cold. In this sense, our state is characterized by "ex-sistere" as Heidegger emphasizes, or, in our term, by "inten- tionality". This leads me to the contention that we ourselves face ourselves in the state of "exsistere". Even in cases where we do not face ourselves by means of reflection or looking into ourselves, our selves are exposed to ourselves. Reflection is merely a form of grasping ourselves. Fur- thermore, it is not a primary mode of self-revelation. (But if the word "reflect" is taken in its visual sense, i. e., if it is understood as to dash against something and rebound from it and to reveal oneself in this rebound or reflection, it can be argued that the word may well indicate the way in which our selves are exposed to ourselves.) We feel the cold, or we are out in the cold. Therefore, in feeling the cold, we discover ourselves in the cold itself. This does not mean 4 CHAPTER 1 THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE CHAPTER 1 THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE 5 that we transfer our selves into the cold and there discover the selves thus transferred. The instant that the cold is discovered, we are already outside in the cold. Therefore, the basic essence of what is "present outside" is not a thing or object such as the cold, but we ourselves. "Ex-sistere" is the fundamental principle of the structure of our selves, and it is on this principle that intentionality depends. That we feel the cold is an intentional experience, in which we discover our selves in the state of "ex-sistere", or our selves already outside in the cold. We have considered the problem in terms of individual conscious- ness in the experience of cold. But, as we have been able to use the expression "we feel cold", without any contradiction, it is "we", not "I" alone that experience the cold. We feel the same cold in common. It is precisely because of this that we can use terms describing the cold in our exchange of daily greetings. The fact that the feeling of cold differs between us is possible only on the basis of our feeling the cold in common. Without this basis it would be quite impossible to recognise that any other "I" experiences the cold. Thus, it is not "I" alone but "we", or more strictly, "I" as "we" and "we" as "I" that are outside in the cold. The structure of which "ex-sistere" is the fundamental principle is this "we", not the mere "I". Accord- ingly, "ex-sistere" is "to be out among other 'I's'" rather than "to be out in a thing such as the cold". This is not an intentional relation but a "mutual relationship" of existence. Thus it is primarily "we" in this "mutual relationship" that discover our selves in the cold. I have attempted to define the phenomenon cold. However, we do not experience this kind of atmospheric phenomenon in isolation from othen of its kind. It is experienced in relation to warmth, or heat, or in connection with wind, rain, snow, sunshine, and so forth. In other words the cold is simply one of the whole series of similar phenomena which we call weather. When we enter a warm room after walking in the cold wind, when we stroll in the mild spring breeze after a cold winter is over, or when we are caught in a torrential shower on a boiling hotsummer day, we first of all apprehend ourselves w ~ t n such meteorological phenomena, which are other than our selves. Again, in changes in the weather, we first of all ap- prehend changes in ourselves. This weather, too, is not experienced in isolation. It is experienced only in relation to the soil, the topo- graphic and scenic features and so on of a given land. A cold wind may be experienced as a mountain blast or the cold, dry wind that sweeps through Tokyo at the end of the winter. The spring breeze may be one which blows off cherry blossoms or which caresses the waves. So, too, the heat of summer may be of the kind to wither rich verdure or to entice children to play merrily in the sea. As we find our gladdened or pained selves in a wind that scatters the cherry blossoms, so do we apprehend our wilting selves in the very heat of summer that scorches down on plants and trees in a spell of dry weather. In other words, we find ourselves-ourselves as an element in the "mutual relationship"-in "climate". Such self-apprehension is not the recognition of the "I" as the subject that feels the cold and the heat or as the subject that is glad- dened by the cherry blossoms. In these experiences we do not look towards the "subject". We stiffen, or we put on warm clothes, or we draw near the brazier when we feel cold. Or, we may feel more concern about putting clothes on our children or seeing that the old are near the brazier. We work hard to have the money to buy more clothes and charcoal. Charcoal burners make charcoal in the moun- tains, and textile factories produce clothing materials. Thus, in our relationship with the cold, we come to engage ourselves, individually and socially, il). various measures for protecting ourselves from the cold. In the same way, when we rejoice in the cherry blossoms, we do not look to the subject; rather it is the blossoms that take our 6 CHAPTEJl I THE BASIC PJlINCIPLES OF CLIMATE CHAPTEJl I THE BASIC PJlINCIPI.ES OF CLIMATE 7 attention and we invite our friends to go blossom-viewing, or drink and dance with them under the trees. Thus in our relationship with the spring scene, either individually or socially we adopt various measures for securing enjoyment from it. The same may be said of the summer heat or disasters such as storms and floods. It is in our relationship with the tyranny of nature that we first come to engage ourselves in joint measures to secure early protection from such tyranny. The apprehension of the self in climate is revealed as the discovery of such measures; it is not the recognition of the subject. The various measures which are thus discovered, such as clothes, braziers, charcoal-burning, houses, blossom-viewing, dykes, drains, anti-typhoon structures, and the like, are of course what we ourselves have devised at our own discretion. It is not, however, with no con- nection with such' climatic phenomena as the cold, the heat, and the humidity that we have devised them. We have discovered ourselves in climate, and in this self-apprehension we are directed to our free creation. Further, it is not only we ourselves who today cooperate to defend ourselves or work against the cold, the heat, the storm or the flood. We possess an inheritance of self-apprehension accumulated over the years since the time of our ancestors. A house style is an established mode of construction, and this cannot have come into be- ing without some connection with climate. The house is a device for protecting ourselves both from cold and from heat. The style of architecture must be determined most of all by the degree of protection required against cold or heat. Then a house must be so built as to withstand storm, flood, earthquake, fire and the like. A heavy roof is necessary against storm and flood, though it may be disadvantageous in the event of an earthquake. The house should be adapted to these various conditions. Furthermore, humidity imposes severe limitations on residential style. Where the humidity is very high, thorough ventilation is essential. Wood, paper and clay are the building ma- terials that offer the best protection against humidity, but they give no protection at all against fire. These various restraints and con- ditions are taken into account and accorded their degree of importance before the pattern of the house of a given locality is finally established. Thus the determination of the architectural style of a house is an ex- pression of the self-apprehension of man within climate. The same may be said about clothing styles. Here again, clothing styles have been established socially over a long period, styles being determined by climate. A style distinctive to a certain locality, perhaps because of the latter's cultural supremacy, may be transplanted to another locality with a different climate. (This can occur more readily with dress than with architectural styles). But to whatever locality it may be transplanted, the fact that the style is conditioned by the climate which produced it can never be effaced_ European-style clothes remain European, even after more than half a century of wear in Japan. Such climatic conditioning is even more obvious in the case of food, for it is with climate that the production of food is most intimately connected. It is not that man made the choice between stock-raising and fishing according to his preference for meat or fish. On the contrary, he came to prefer either meat or fish because climate deter- mined whether he should engage in stock-raising or in fishing. In the same way, the predominant factor governing the choice between a vegetable or a meat diet is climate, rather than the vegetarian's ideology. So our appetite is not for food in general but for food prepared in a certain way which has long been established. What we actually want when we are hungry is bread or rice, a beef steak or raw fish. The way that food is prepared is an expression of a people's climatic self-apprehension and is something which has taken shape over many generations. Our ancestors ate shell-fish and seaweed long before they mastered the skills of the farmer. We can also discover climatic phenomena in all the expressions of human activity, such as literature, art, religion, and manners and 8 CHAPTER J THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE CHAPTER J THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE 9 1.0 00 customs. This is a natural consequence as long as man apprehends himself in climate. It is evident, therefore, that climatic phenomena understood in this light differ from phenomena studied by natural science. To consider a sea-food diet as a climatic phenomenon is not to regard climate merely as natural environment. To interpret artistic style in relation to climate is to indicate the inseparability of climate from history. The most frequent misunderstanding about climate occurs in the commonplace view that influences exist between man and his natural environment. Here, however, the factors of human existence and history have been excluded from the concrete phenomena of climate, which are regarded merely as natural environment. It is from such a standpoint that it is often said that not only is man conditioned by climate, but that he, in his turn, works on and transforms climate. But this is to ignore the true nature of climate. We, on the other hand, have seen that it is in climate that man apprehends himself. The activity of man's self-apprehension, man, that is, in his dual character of individual and social being, is at the same time of a historical nature. Therefore, climate does not exist apart from history, nor history apart from climate. This can only be understood from the fundamental structure of human existence. (2) Climatic Limitation of Human Existence I have defined climate as a means for man to discover himself. But what is this "man"? If one is to interpret climate as one of the forms of limitation on human existence, one should attempt to state, in broad terms, the place this limitation has in the general structure of human existence. By "man" I mean not the individual (anthropos, homo, homme, etc.) but man both in this individual sense and at the same time man in society, the combination or the association of man. This duality is the essential nature of man. So neither anthropology, which treats man the individual, nor sociology, which takes up the other aspect, can grasp the real or full substance of man. For a true and full understanding, one must treat man both as individual and as whole; it is only when the analysis of human existence is made from this viewpoint that it becomes evident that this existence is completely and absolutely negative activity. And human existence is precisely the realisation of this negative activity. Human existence, through fragmentation into countless individual entities, is the activity which brings into being all forms of combina- tion and community. Such fragmentation and union are essentially of a self-active and practical nature and cannot come about in the absence of self-active entities. Hence, space and time in this self-active sense, form the fundamental structure of these activities. It is at this point that space and time are grasped in their essential form and their inseparability becomes distinct. An attempt to treat the structure of human existence as one of time only would fall into the error of trying to discover human existence on the level only of individual con- sciousness. But if the dual character of human existence is taken as the essential nature of man, then it is immediately clear that space must be regarded as linked with time. With the elucidation of the space-and time-nature of human ex- istence, the structure of human association also appears in its true light. The several unions and combinations that man fashions evolve intrinsically according to a certain order. They are to be regarded as not static social structures but as active and evolving systems. They are the realisation of negative activity. This is how history took shape. Here the space-and time-structure of human existence is revealed as climate and history: the inseparability of time and space is the basis of the inseparability of history and climate. No social forma- tion could exist if it lacked all foundation in the space-structure of man, nor does time become history unless it is founded in such social 10 CHAPTER I THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE CHAPTER 1 THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE II being, for history is the structure of existence in society. Here also we see clearly the duality of human existence-the finite and the infinite. Men die; their world changes; but through this unending death and change, man lives and his world continues. It continues incessantly through ending incessantly. In the individual's eyes, it is a case of an "existence for death", but from the standpoint of society it is an "existence for life". Thus human existence is both individual and social. But it is not only history that is the structure of social existence, for climate is also a part of this structure and, at that, a part quite inseparable from history. For it is from the union of climate with history that the latter gets its flesh and bones. In terms of the contrast between spirit and matter, history can never be merely spiritual self.develoI;>ment. For it is only when, as selfactive being, the spirit objectivises itself, in other words, only when it includes such self-active physical principle that it becomes history, as self-develop- ment. This "self-active physical principle", as we might term it, is climate. The human duality, of the finite and the infinite, is most plainly revealed as the historical and climatic structure. It is here that climate is revealed; for mankind is saddled not simply with a general past but with a specific climatic past; a general formal historical structure is substantiated by a specific content. It is only in this way that the historical being of mankind can become the being of man in a given country at a given age. Again, climate as this specific content does not exist alone and in isolation from history, entering and becoming a part of the content of history at a later juncture. From the very first, climate is historical climate. In the dual structure of man-the historical and the climatic-history is climatic history and climate is historical climate. History and climate in isolation from each other are mere abstractions; climate as I shall consider it is the essential climate that has not undetgone this abstrac- tion. Such, then, is the place of climatic limitation in the structure of human life. It will no doubt be evident that there are certain points of similarity between the problem of climate and that of "body" in traditional anthropology, which took as its study the individual nature abstracted from the duality of the individual and the social. It then endeavoured to treat man, divorced from his relationships, as a duality ()f body and spirit, but all efforts to clearly grasp this distinction be tween body and spirit led to a final disregard for the unity in this distinction. This was essentially because the body was taken as equiva. lent to a "material body" and divorced from concrete self-active principle. It was for this reason that anthropology was divided into spiritualist and materialist camps, the one developing from psychology towards epistemology, the other moving in the direction either of anthropology as a branch of zoology, or of physiology and anatomy. But the philosophical anthropology of today is attempting to heal this division and again treat man as a duality of spirit and body. So the crux of the problem becomes the realisation that the body is not mere matter; in other words, it is the problem of the selfactive nature of the body. Yet anthropology will always be the study of "individual man" rather than of "man in his social relationship". We, in this enquiry, are pursuing a problem of a similar nature, although ours, that of the duality of human nature, is the more funda- mental. The selfactive nature of the body has as its foundation the spatial and temporal structure of human life; a self-active body cannot remain in isolation for its structure is dynamic, uniting in isolation and isolated within union. When various social combinations are evolved within this dynamic structure it becomes something historical or climatic. Climate, too, as part of man's body, was regarded like the body as mere matter, and so came to be viewed objectively as mere natural environment. So the self-active nature of climate must be retrieved in the same sense that the selfactive nature of the body 12 CHAPTER 1 THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE CHAPTER 1 THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE HI IV o o has to be retrieved. It would be fair to say, then, that. in its most funda- mental significance. the relation between body and spirit lies in the relation between the body and the spirit of "man in his social relation ships", the individual and social body-spirit relation which includes the relationship with history and climate. The problem of climate affords a pointer for any attempt to analyse the structure of human life. The ontological comprehension of human life is not to be attained by a mere transcendence which regards the structure as one of time, for this has to be transcendence in the sense of the discovery of the self in the other and the subsequent reversal to absolute negation in the union of self and other. In this case, the relationships between man and man must be on a transcendent plane and the relationships themselves, the basis for the discovery of self and other, must already be essentially on a plane which "stands outside" (ex-sistere). Transcendence itself must have assumed some historical significance, as being the temporal structure of such relationships. It is not something in the individual consciousness but the relationships themselves that constantly reach into the future. Time in individual consciousness is a mere abstraction on the basis of the history of the relationships. Transcendence also "stands outside" (ex-sistere) clio matically. In other words, man discovers himself in climate. From the standpoint of the individual. this becomes consciousness of the body, but in the context of the more concrete ground of human life, it reveals itself in the ways of r r e t i n ~ communities. and thus in the ways of constructing speech. the methods of production. the styles of buildinl'!;. and so on. Transcendence, as the structure of human life. must include all these entities. Thus climate is seen to be the factor by which self-active human e i n ~ <:an be made objective: climatic phenomena show man how to discover himself as "standing outside" (i.e., ex-sistere). The self discovered by the cold turns into tools devised against the cold, such as houses or clothes, which then confront the self. Again climate itself. the climate in which we move. and in which we "stand outside", becomes a tool to be used. The cold, for instance. is not only some- thing that sends us off for warm clothes; it can also be utilised to freeze the bean-curd. Heat is not only something that makes us use a fan; it is also the heat that nourishes the rice-plants. Wind has us scurry- ing to the temple to pray for safety through the typhoon season; it is also the wind that fills a sail. So even in such relationships we "stand outside" in climate and understand our selves from it, our selves. that is. as consumers or users. In other words, this self-com- prehension through climate at the same time leads us to discover ourselves as confronted with such tools. There is much to be learnt from the thought that such tools are to be found very near to hand in human life. A tool is essentially "for doing something". A hammer is for beating. a shoe for wearing. But the object that is "for doing something else" has an immanent connection with the purpose for which it is employed. The hammer, for example, is a tool for making shoes, and shoes. again, are tools for walking. The essential character of the tool lies in its being "for a purpose", lies. that is, in this purpose-relation. Now this purpose relation derives from human life and at its basis we find the climatic limitation of human life. Shoes may be tools for walking. but the great majority of mankind could walk without them; it is rather cold and heat that make shoes necessary. Clothes are to be worn, yet they are worn above all as a protection against cold. Thus this purpose relation finds its final origin in climatic self-comprehension. As well as understanding ourselves in cold or heat, we take measures, as free agents, for protection. \Ve should not devise clothes completely spontaneously in the absence of the factors of cold or heat. It is when we proceed from "for our protection" to "with what" that climatic 14 CHAPTER 1 THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE CHAPTER 1 THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIlIfATE 15 self-comprehension becomes express. Hence clothes are devised to keep us warm or cool; they are of every style and thickness. Such stuffs as wool, cotton and silk come to be socially recognized as mate- rials for clothes. It is clear, then, that such tools have a very close relationship with climatic limitation. To say, then, that tools are to be found nearest to hand is, in fact, to say that climatic limitation is the foremost factor in objective existence. Climate, then, is the agent by which human life is objectivised, and it is here that man comprehends himself; there is self-discovery in climate. We discover ourselves in all manner of significances every day; it may be in a pleasant or a sad mood, but such feelings or tempers are to be regarded not merely as mental states but as our way of life. These, moreover, are not feelings that we are free to choose of ourselves, but are imposed on us as pre-determined states. Nor is it climate only that prescribes such pre-determined feelings, for our individual and social existence controls the way of life of the individual, which is dependent on it in the form of pre-existent rela- tionships, and imparts to him determined moods; it may sometimes impart to society a determined mood in the form of an existent histori- cal situation. But the imposition of climate, united and involved with these, is the most conspicuous. One morning we may find our- selves "in a revived mood". This is interpreted in terms of specific temperature and humidity conditions influencing us externally and inducing internally a revived mental condition. But the facts are quite different, for what we have here is not a mental state but the freshness of the external atmosphere. But the object that is understood in terms of the temperature and the humidity of the atmosphere has not the slightest similarity with the freshness itself. This freshness is a state; it appertains to the atmosphere but it is neither the atmosphere itself nor a property of the atmosphere. It is not that we have certain states imposed on us by the atmosphere; the fact that the atmosphere possesses a state of freshness is that we ourselves feel revived. We discover ourselves, that is, in the atmosphere. Bu,t the freshness of the atmosphere is not that of a mental state, as is shown best by the fact that the morning feeling of freshness is embodied and expressed directly in our mutual greetings. We comprehend ourselves in this freshness of the atmosphere, for what is fresh is not our own mental state but the atmosphere itself. So we do not need to go through the process of examining others' mental states to be able to greet each other with "Isn't it a lovely morning?". Such climatic burdens or impositions occur very frequently in our life. The feeling of exhilaration on a clear, fine day, of gloom on a day in the rainy season, of vitality when the young green bursts, of gentleness when the spring rain falls, of freshness on a summer morning, of savageness on a day of violent wind and rain-we could run through all the words that haiku uses to denote the season and still not exhaust such climatic burdens. Our life is thus restricted by a climate possessed of a limitless range of states. So not only the past but also climate are imposed on us. Our being has a free in addition to this imposed character. What has already occurred happens in advance; what suffers imposition is at the same time free; in this we see the historical nature of our being. But this historical nature is bound up with climatic nature, so that if the imposition contains climate in addition to the past, climatic limitation lends a certain character even to man's free activities. It goes without saying that clothes, food and the like, as being tools, assume a climatic character; but, even more essentially, if man is already suffering climatic limitation when he attains sel-comprehen- sion, then the character of climate cannot but become the character of this self-understanding. It is existentially evident to us that accord- ing to the changes in the climate in which man lives, he reveals all sorts of distinctive characteristics in the expressions of his existence. N o .... 16 CHAPTER I THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE CHAPTER I THE BASIC PRINCIPLES OF CLIMATE 17 IV o IV So if climatic character becomes the character of man's self-understand- ing, it is this climatic character that we need to study and discover. What, then, should be our approach to such a thing as climatic character? The climatic limitation of human life is a problem of the whole climatic and historical structure; it is not a concrete or specific problem of man's way of life. In the latter case, the limitation only takes a distinctive form in a given country at a given age and this is a distinctiveness that we are not concerned to study. Man's' way of life understood ontologically does not lead directly to a comprehen- sion of the distinctive character of being; all it can do is to act as go-between for such comprehension. This being so, for an understanding of life lived in this distinctive mould, we must apply ourselves to a direct comprehension of historical and climatic phenomena. But would the latter understood merely as objective lead to a full comprehension of climate in the sense in which I have used it above? We must accept that it is only through the interpretation of historical and climatic phenomena that we can show that these phenomena are the expression of man's conscious being, that climate is the organ of such self-objectivisation and self- discovery and that the climatic character is the character of subjective human existence. Thus as long as this enquiry is directed to the distinctiveness of distinctive being, it is an existential comprehension; but in far as it treats this distinctive way of life as the condition of man's conscious being, it is ontological comprehension. Thus a grasp of the distinctive historical and climatic make-up of human being becomes an ontological existential comprehension. In so far as climatic character is the subject of enquiry, it cannot help being so. Our enquiry will, therefore, proceed from observations of distinc- tive climatic phenomena to the distinctive nature of human life. In that climate is essentially historical climate, climatic types are simul- taneously historical types. I do not seek to avoid this aspect, for it is one that cannot and should not be avoided. But I shall attempt to treat this enquiry specifically from the aspect of climate, in part because it has been conspicuously neglected, a neglect which no doubt arises from the difficulty of handling the problem in a scholarly man nero Herder attempted a "Climatic Study of the Human Spirit" from an exegesis of "Living Nature" and the outcome was, in Kant's criticism, not so much the labour of the scholar as the product of the poet's imagination. This is a hazard that confronts anyone who dares to delve into the depths of the climatic problem. But I feel that it must be faced, for the problem of climatic characteristics should be put under the searchlight of radical research and be thoroughly clarified in all its aspects, if only that historical enquiry might acquire a proper concreteness. (Drafted 1929; redrafted 1931; revised 1935.) (2) a) CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON Cl.IMATE 133 the supplementation of one's own failings through the adoption of another's strong points. For over a thousand years until the Meiji Restoration, the Japa- nese despised their own culture and looked up to that of China, trying their best to assimilate it even in the every-day matters of food, clothing, housing and the like. But in the same way that Japanese food and the rest ended up conspicuously different from the Chinese, so the less material culture adopted from China was no longer Chinese. For the Japanese appreciates a delicate fineness; he is unmoved by the sweep of grandeur that characterises Chinese culture. Outward order is not as vital to him as is an out-and-out inner refinement, conventional formality is not as attractive as in- spiration in the heart. However much of Chinese culture he absorbed, he did not succeed in assuming a Chinese character. This notwithstanding, Japanese culture does keep alive the genius of the China that existed between the Ch'in and Sung dynasties. By ac- knowledging this, the Chinese could restore the power and grandeur of their noble culture of the past, lost from the China of today. It is here that could be discovered the way out of the impasse in which the Chinese nature finds itself today. China's revival must come. There must be a return to the greatness of Han and T'ang culture, for the reconstruction of Chinese civilisation is an integral and essential part of any new advances that world culture achieves. The financial and military juntas that persist in a course of turning China into a foreign dependency are the real enemies of the people of China. When China's people stand squarely by their own strength, then will begin the revival of her greatness. (Drafted 1929; Revised 1943.) Japan japan's typhoon nature Man's way of life has its own distinctive historical and climatic structure, the individuality of which is shown with the greatest clarity N o w 134 CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 135 by climatic patterns governed by the limitations within a climate. Climate, essentially, is historical; so climatic patterns are at the same time historical patterns. I have applied the term "monsoon" to man's way of life in the monsoon zone; the way of life of the Japanese is also of the monsoon type for the Japanese is receptive and resignatory. But the Japanese are not to be typified by this category alone. Superficially, Japan and India have a number of features in common; plants flourish as a result of the blessings of a vast ocean, rich sun- shine and a plentiful supply of water. Yet whereas India lies between the screens of high mountains to the north and the Indian Ocean and enjoys seasonal winds regular in the extreme, Japan, sandwiched between the broad continent of Mongolia and Siberia and the even broader Pacific, suffers from seasonal winds that are most fickle and the very opposite 6f regular. Both are washed by water absorbed in great volume from the ocean; yet, although this water, in the form of the typhoon is in a way seasonal, it has no parallel in the world in the matter of its savage and sudden outbursts; and in the form of heavy snowfalls, it again assumes an aspect of a kind rare in the world. In virtue of such heavy rains. and snows, Japan's climate is by far the most distinctive within the whole monsoon zone; its nature can be said to be dual, combining both that of a tropical belt and that of a frigid zone. Temperate areas to some extent exhibit this dual nature, but only in the climate of Japan is the latter revealed so forcefUlly. It is evinced most distinctly in plant life. Tropical plants like rice, the most appropriate example, which require hot sun and plently of humidity, grow profusely in Japan, so that the summer scene is hardly distinguishable from the tropics. On the other hand, plants which require a cold atmosphere and only a small degree of moisture, such as com, flourish just as well. So in winter Japan is covered in com and winter grass; in summer, in rice and summer grass. But a single tree variety, incapable of such alternation, displays this dual nature in itself. The picture of the bamboo, a native of the tropics, covered in snow, is often quoted as a scene peculiar to Japan. But, accustomed to bearing this weight of snow, the bamboo has adopted a nature different from that in the tropics and has become a curved and flexible variety distinctive to Japan. Features such as these, discovered by a consideration of climate in the abstract, are concrete factors in the history of man's life. Men cultivate rice and tropical vegetables, com and the various cold-lone vegetables, so the rain and the sunshine essential to such cultivation affect and influence man's livelihood. Typhoons destroy the rice ears and so threaten man's existence. Now the typhoon, while seasonal, is also unexpected and sudden; thus it contains the dual nature of man's way of life. So on top of the dual nature of the monsoon climate, which, at one and the same time, in the form of copious moisture blesses man with food and threatens him in the form of violent winds and floods, and on top of the passive and resignatory way of life that corresponds to this monsoon climate in general, there is a further distinctive addition in Japan-the distinctive duality of tropical and frigid zones, and the seasonal and the sudden. Monsoon receptivity assumes a very unique form in the Japa- nese for it is, first of all, both tropical and frigid. It is neither the constant fullness of feeling of the tropics nor again the single-toned tenacity of emotio.n of the cold lones. Although there is a plentiful outflow of emotion, there is a steady tenacity that persists even through change. Just like the changes of the seasons, the receptivity of the Japanese calls for abrupt switches of rhythm. So the Japanese is full of emotional vitality and sensitivity, lacking all continental phlegm. Such vitality and sensitivity lead to exhaustion and an absence of tenacity. But the recovery from this fatigue is not the effect of an unresponsive repose; it is rather brought about by constant changes of emotion resulting from abrupt switches of stimulus and mood. 136 CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CI.IMATE CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF :'IONSOON CLIMATE 137 But there is no alteration in the nature of emotions at such times of exhaustion and recovery, so that behind this lack of tenacity there lurks a certain dogged continuity. In other words, emotions may change but, inwardly, they persist. Japanese receptivity, in the second place, is seasonal and abrupt. For in that a tenacity underlies emotional changes, and because, through the constant switches, the same emotion persists, the change is not simply seasonal and regular nor is it again entirely abrupt or haphazard. Rather, while the changes are always unexpected, they are switches to a new emotion conditioned in part by the old one. Emotions can alternate with the unanticipated and abrupt intensity of a seasonal yet savage typhoon. This emotional power is not char- acterised by any tenacious sustention, but rather by a savagery akin to that of Japan's own searing autumn winds. This has led often to historical phenomena of the character not of a sustained struggle but of a complete social overturning. And it has further produced the distinctive Japanese cast of mind that exalts and sets great value on emotion and abhors all tenacity. It is of deep significance and highly appropriate that this mood of the Japanese should be symbolised by the cherry blossoms, for they flower abruptly, showily and almost in indecent haste; but the blooms have no tenacity-they fall as abruptly and disinterestedly as they flowered. Monsoon resignation also takes its own distinctive turn in Japan. First of all, it is both tropical and frigid. In other words, it is neither unresisting acquiescence of the tropical zone nor persistent and patient doggedness of the frigid lone. For, although essentially resignation, through resistance it becomes mutable and quick-tempered endurance. Violent winds and deluge rains in the end enforce resignation on man, but their typhoon nature provokes in him a fighting mood. Thus, while the Japanese thought neither to submit passively to nor to resist nature, he did attain an ill-sustained acquiescence. This is the passivity that is evinced in Japan's distinctive self-abandonment In second place, this resignation is seasonal and abrupt. A resignation that includes resistance, precisely on account of this resist- ance, is not a seasonal or a regular reiteration of resistance; nor again is it an abrupt or haphazard resignation. Rather, within the reiteration there is an abrupt suddenness of resignation. Resistance, lurking behind this mask of resignation, can erupt with the unex- pected savagery of a typhoon, yet once this storm of emotion has died down, there remains an equally abrupt and calm acquiescence. The seasonal and the abrupt within receptivity correspond directly to those within resignation. Fight and resistance are admired almost to the degree of savagery yet they do not develop into dogged persistence, for graceful abandonment or acquiescence enhance such spirited re- sistance and fight. In other words, an abrupt swing to resignation, open forgetting and forgiving, are considered virtues by the Japa- nese. The cast of mind that is symbolised by the cherry blossom is based in part on this abrupt resignation and is revealed most ex- plicitly in open-hearted throwing away of life. This, in the form of the attitude under persecution of Japan's Christian martyrs, and again more recently in the Russo-Japanese war provoked European admiration. Anything that is grounded on resistance or fight is a clinging to life. For all that, when this attachment to life was ex- hibited in its most intense and objective aspect, the most prominent and central feature of this attachment was the attitude that was the very opposite-a complete contradiction of this tenacity. This is shown to perfection in war. The spirit of Japanese swordsmanship is the harmony of sword and calm meditation. In other words, the spirit of war is heig-htcncdon account of this dogged attachment to and transcending of life. These qualities all stem from Japan's "typhoon resignation". This, then, is the distinctive Japanese \Yay of life-a copious out- flow of emotion, constantly changing, yet conceals perseverence beneath IV o U1 138 CHAPTER 5 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 5 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 139 IV o 0'1 this change; at every moment in this alternation of mutability and endurance, there is abruptness. This activity of emotions sinks to resigned acquiescence in resistance, and underneath the exaltation of activity there lies a quiet and suddenly apparent abandonment. This is a quiet savagery of emotion, a fighting disinterest. Here we dis- cover the national spirit of Japan. And we shall only find this natural character manifested through the events of history, since in fact it was built up by historical influences. Man is essentially social, or relational. So his distinctive way of life is manifested best of all through such relations and through the associational attitudes formed in the process. The most familiar of these relationships, as Aristotle pointed out, is that between man and woman. The distinction made by the very use of the words 'man' and 'woman' is already understood in terms of this basic relationship. In other words, man plays one role in this relationship, woman the other; a person unable to play one of these roles can become neither man nor woman, and however much one unites such individuals, one will still not effect a r:elationship of male and female. Thus by the very use of the words 'man' and 'woman', we ascribe to the in- dividual his function in this relationship. So though 'a person' can be an individual entity, 'man' and 'woman' do not exist independently of each other. This relationship between male and female in Japan can be traced by reading Japan's love poems, starting from those in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shohi and proceeding through this most rich of all source materials. Here is found a calm love concealed behind a violence of passion, a love that is at once fighting yet selfless and acquiescent. This Japanese type of love and the many artless and disappointed loves pictured in the Kojiki possess a calm found neither in the Old Testament nor in the Greek epics. Yet, at the same time these loves have a typhoon savagery and a fighting power of a kind that could exist neither in India nor in China. But it is in the lovers' suicide that this calm and selfless resignation is shown at its most clear and concrete. As time passed, this artlessness was lost; yet this form of love is still discernible in the Heian period which saw in love the "sadness in life" and in the Kamakura period, when love was united with religion, and even in the Ashikaga period which glorified the fundamental power of love. Buddhism in no way bedevilled love's position. Rather, with its notions of worldly passions, it checked the divorce of soul and body. In the same way, the lovers' suicide, the favourite theme of Tokugawa literature, did not rest purely on a spiritual belief in the other world; rather, it displays the affirmation of love through a denial of life; the heart yearning for an eternity of love is crystallised in this momentary exaltation. Even if it is a departure from the way of man, in that, for the sake of the man- woman role, it tramples on man's other roles, it yet still evinces the character of the' distinctive Japanese type of love. There is, then, in the Japanese type of love, first and foremost an exaltation of love rather than a yearning for life. Love is not the handmaiden of desire-it is the latter that acts as love's handmaiden. So it is in love that there stands out an inseparable bond created by desire, a completely insoluble bond between man and woman. Here, there is a complete harmony of character expressed in terms of a gentle love. But, secondly, love is always of the flesh, and never a union of the spirit only. Love is never able to dispense with fleshly desire as its tool so that a calm love of personality becomes at one and the same time a burning passion. A bond never to be slackened is attempted through the agency of the flesh which is separable; an eternal longing of the soul explodes in a flash in the flesh. Thus, thirdly, love becomes a valour which does not cling to the life in the flesh; and, fourthly, there lies underneath all this an abrupt resigna. tion-resignation that an indissoluble bond is hopeless in the flesh; 140 CHAPTER 5 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 5 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CUMATE 141 then fleshly love selflessly denies the flesh. Not only is this shown at its height in the lovers' suicide; it is further indicated by the fact that the Japanese, who always understand love as of the flesh, are selfless in the flesh. So Japanese love preserves a quality of emo- tion more refined than any such type of love as will selfishly cling to fleshly desire while it understands love as a matter of the soul. But to limit the 'relationship' between man and woman only to one of unmarried love is to consider the abstract only. For this rela- tionship must of necessity also include that between husband and wife and between parent and child. But this relationship of parent and child is not only that between husband and wife and the child they have born; for this husband and wife, as well as possessing the role of parent, are themselves the children of their own parents. So, in addition to being man or woman, there is also the factor of a person's status, as husband or wife, as parent or child. There can be no man or woman who has not fulfilled the role of child. So the male-female relationship is based in the associational attitude of the family, in the relationships of husband and wife, parent and child and so on. So the functions of these relationships developed in the first place within the unit of the family as a whole; it is not the case that the family comes into being through the association of man and woman, husband and wife and so on. Relationships between people as family members differ openly between meadow, desert and monsoon climates. Meadow culture be- gan with the piratical adventures of the Greeks. Adventurous males who had become separated from their native pastures made attacks on the Aegean coastlines; they began to build a rudimentary polis and took as wives the women of the lands they had conquered. Here there was the beginning of a new family, its constituents men who had escaped from their native houses and women whose housholds had been slaughtered. This is the historical background of the re- quent stories of a wife killing her husband in the old Greek tradi tions. Hence although from the very first the Greeks had a firm tradition of ancestor worship and steadfastly clung to rites honouring the hestia, once the polis was created, its significance came to dominate that of the house. The family was understood in terms of husband and wife; in the matter of lineage, descent was traced only back to the father at the very best. In contrast, the desert family was regard- ed in terms of a traditional existence which bore the burden of the whole lineage from the very first ancestor. So even Jesus, born of the Virgin, is the "son of Abraham", the "seed of David". But in the way of life of the desert, this exalted state of the family yielded place to the tribe, for it was the latter rather than the family that was the unit of nomad life. Community of family life under the strict surveillance of tribal solidarity strengthened this sense. However, it was the monsoon family, particularly in China and Japan, that laid the greatest stress of all on the community of family life. As with the desert, there is the same power of lineage, but this was not dis- sipated in the tribe. "House" signifies the family as a whole. The latter is represented by the head of the house, but it is the family as a whole that gives the head of the house his authority; it is not the case that the house is brought into existence at the whim of its head. The "house" is given a substantial and distinctive character by the fact that its unity is understood in historical terms. The family of the present shoulders the burden of this historical house and undertakes liability for its unity from past down into future. So the good name of the house can make a victim even of the household head. The household mem- ber, then, is not merely parent or child, husband or wife; he is also a descendant of. his ancestors and himself an ancestor to those that are to come. The 'house' thus evinces most starkly the fact that the family as a whole takes precedence over its individual members. 142 CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF lolONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CI.IMATE 143 N o (Xl The "house" in this sense stood out prominently as part of the Japanese way of life; the family system was stressed as being an elegant and beautiful custom. But where does the special character of this family system lie? And will Japan's distinctive way of life disappear as the family system falls into disuse? What has been said of the specific character of Japanese love holds good in entirety for the family way of life. Here, the point of enquiry is the relationship not between male and female but between husband and wife, parent and child, elder and younger brother or sister. This relationship is, above all, that of gentle affection, aiming at a com- pletely frank union. The artless ancients, when speaking of quarrels between husband and wife or of jealousy, already display this sense of warm and unreserved family affection. Again, the fine poem of Okura, the Manyo poet-"5ilver or gold or jade, none are as precious as my child"-has long been regarded as entirely appropriate to the heart of the Japanese. Okura's family affection is revealed even more directly by his poem "On Going Home From A Party"; "My sobbing child and his mother Now wait for me to go home." Such gentle affection can even be seen in the Kamakura warriors who effected a great social revolution; Kumagaya Renshobo's reversal of heart, for example, sprang from his affection for his child. Again, in the No chants of the Ashikaga period the love between parent and child is conceived as of a deep and fundamental power. It goes al- most without saying that the literary arts of the Tokugawa period used the affection between parent and child when they wished to draw tears. Through every age, the Japanese strove for the sacrifice of selfishness within the family. So there is a full realisation of the concept of the fusion of self and other. But while this affection is calm it is at the same time full of passion. The calmness of affec- tion is not a mere fusion of emotions sunk in the depths of gloom; it is a durability of emotions which lies behind fullness of feeling and the mutations brought by the latter. But this calm is only achiev- ed at the cost of the purge and the purification of powerful emotions. 50 the force that is directed towards unreserved unity within the family, in spite of its outward calm, is very intense. Thus the sacrifice of the self does not stop short at the needs of convenience but is carried through to the extreme limits. Whenever it meets with an obstacle, this quiet affection turns into ardent passion, forceful enough even to overwhelm the individual for the sake of the whole family. So, in third place, the family relationship takes the form of a heroic and martial attitude, unsparing even of life itself. Notions of vendetta carried on for the sake of parents in, for example, the Tales of the Soga, indicate just how much such sentiments stirred the hearts of the Japanese. A man was ready to sacrifice his life for his parents or for the good name of the house, and, for the individual concerned, this sacrifice was felt to possess the greatest significance in life. Such was the heroic samurai, prepared to lay down all for the good name of his house. The house as a whole was always of greater import than the individual, so, as a fourth feature, the latter threw away his life with the utmost selflessness. The most striking feature of Japanese history is this readiness to stake one's life for the sake of parent or child, or to cast away life for the house. So the calm of family affection contains the sacrifice of self-centred- ness; thus valour for the good of the family, in that it is not grounded in selfishness, is not a dogged clinging to life. Hence, the Japanese way of life regarded as that of a household is none other than the realisation, through the family, of the distinc- tive relationship of Japan-the fusion of a calm passion and a martial selflessness. This relationship further became the basis of the con- spicuous development of the 'house' itself, for this calm affection did not permit man to be viewed either artificially or abstractly, and, 144 CHAPTER THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 145 as a result, it was inappropriate to the development of a larger com- munity of men built on the consciousness of the individual. So the concept of "house" in Japan takes on the unique and important significance of, if you like, the community of all communities. This is the real essence of the Japanese way of life and the Japanese family system, built on this foundation, has roots more deeply laid than any ideology. It will be readily acknowledged that the family system has no longer the prominence or power that it possessed in Tokugawa days. But it would be harder to argue that the Japanese way of life today is divorced from the house. Modern European capitalism tries to see man as an individual; the family, too, is interpreted as a gathering of individuals to setve economic interests. But it could not on any account be argued that the Japanese, in spite of the adoption of capitalism, ceased to see the individual in the 'house' and came to regard the 'house' in an. association of individuals. To cite the most everyday phenomenon, the Japanese understand the house as "inside" and the world beyond it as "outside". Withih this "inside", all distinction between individuals disappears. To the wife, the husband is "inside", or "the man inside" or even "the house". (These are the actual terms used of a husband.) To the husband, the wife is "inside the house". The family, too, is "those within"- distinguished clearly from anyone outside; but once within, all dis- tinction disappears. Thus the "house", or the "inside" is regarded as the family as a whole, a relationship admitting no discrimination, but very strictly segregated from the "outside" world. A distinction of this nature between "inside" and "outside" is not to be found in European languages where, although one may speak of "inside" and "outside" in reference to a room or a house, these terms are not used of this family relationship. Contrasts between "inside" and "outside" that possess a significance weighty enough for them to correspond to Japanese usage, are, in the first place, that between inside and outside of the heart of the individual, secondly between inside and outside of a house, regarded as a building, and thirdly, between inside and outside of a country or town. Hence. in this kind of distinction, attention is focussed primarily on the confrontation between spirit and flesh, between human and natural, and between the communities of men on the broad scale; there is no thought of making family rela- tionship the standard of distinction. Thus it would not be unfair to say that the concepts of "inside" and "outside" in Japan lead directly to a comprehension of her way of life. Exactly the same phenomenon is revealed by house structure. In other words, the house regarded as a structure of human relations is reflected in the layout of a house regarded simply as a building. Above all, the house exhibits an internal fusion that admits of no discrimination. None of the rooms are set off from each other by lock and key with a will to separation; in other words, there is no distinction between individual rooms. Even if there is a parti- tioning by shoji (sliding doors) or tusuma (screens), this is a division within a unity of mutual trust, and is not a sign of a desire for separation. So the close and undiscriminating unity of the house does permit such partitioning by shoji or fusuma; but the very fact of the need for partition within this undiscriminating unity is an indication of the passion it contains. So such partitions indicate the existence of antagonisms within the house; yet their removal is in itself a show of a completely unbarriered and selfless openness. In second place, the house is quite unmistakably distinguished from "outside". Even if there is no lock on the rooms, there is al- ways one on the door that leads to the outside; there may also be beyond this a fence, a wall, and, in extreme cases, a protective thicket or a moat. When a Japanese returns home from the "outside", he removes his getq or shoes, and by this very act he draws an explicit distinction between "inside" and "outside". IV o 1.0 146 CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 147 IV ..... o Thus the "house" continues as ever in Japan,-and continues not just as a formal entity but as a determinant of the Japanese way of life. The degree to which the character of the latter is unique becomes clearer with a comparison with the European way of life. A house in Europe is partitioned off into individual and independent rooms which are separated by thick walls and stout doors. These doors can all be secured by intricate locks so that only key-holders may come and go freely. In principle, this is a construction stressing individuality and separation. The distinction between "inside" and "outside" as understood first and foremost as one of the heart of the individual is reflected in house construction; it becomes the "in- side" and "outside" of the individual room so that to go out of a room in Europe has the same significance as to go out of a house in Japan. Inside the room, as an individual, that is, one may strip nak.ed; but once one goes from the room and joins the family as a whole, one should always be neat and tidy. Once one takes a step out of the room, there is little difference whether it be to the dining-room inside the house or to a street restaurant. In other words, the dining room, within the house, is already the equivalent of "out- side" to the Japanese; yet, at the same time, "outside" in Europe, a restaurant or the opera, plays the same role as the tea-room or the living room in Japan. Hence, in one aspect, the unit equivalent to the house in Japan is narrowed down to the individual room with its lock and key; but, another aspect, the family circle in Japan is broadened in Europe to extend to the whole of the community. In Europe there is no indissoluble relation, but merely a loose social grouping of individuals which does admit separation. Yet although this extends beyond the room as the unit, it is still "inside" from the aspect of a common livelihood, as are the parks or the town streets. Hence, while what corresponds to the wall or the fence of the Japanese house is narrowed down to the lock on the individual room, in other aspects this same equivalent is broadened to become the city walls or the surrounding moat. The city gateway in Europe corresponds to the Japanese house doorway. So, in Europe, the house. midway between the two units of room and city wall, is not of great significance. Man is individualist in the extreme; so, in addition to segregation, there is social intercourse, cooperation within divisitln. In other words, the house has no prescriptive functions. In outward aspects, the Japanese have copied the European way of life; but it would not be unfair to say that they remain almost entirely uninfluenced by Europe in the matter of their inability to base their social and public life on individualism. Who would think he could walk on an asphalt r,oad in stockinged feet? Who would walk in his shoes-even if they be western shoes-on Japanese tatami matting? Where then is to be found this identity of "inside" the house, (in Japan), with "inside" the town. (in Europe)? It is not European in spirit to consider "the town" as completely alien to and outside of "the house"; and only in that he lives in an open, un- partitioned house is the Japanese still prescribed, as he always has been, by his house. So it must be allowed that the way of life as seen in the house does very strikingly exhibit the distinctive character of the people. And it was by way of the concept of the house as a whole unit that the Japanese came to be aware of themselves as a whole. Mankind as a whole was understood first in terms of Kami, the Japanese spirit or deity; and in historical tenps, this Kami was the ancestor of the house as a whole. This was the exceedingly plain and homely con- ception of wholeness or unity in early times, but, surprisingly enough, even as Japan's history progressed, this homely vital force continued to stay alive. The Meiji Restoration was achieved as the result of an awakening-of Japan's people expressed in the form of the cry. "Revere the Emperor; expel the foreigner". But this awakening was 148 CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CUMATE 149 in actual fact grounded in a revival of the spirit of the myths that regarded Japan as the land of the kami, the latter faith growing from the worship of the deity enshrined at Ise, the sanctum sanctorum. There can be no parallel in the rest of the world for this phenomenon; for a religious concept of wholeness was able, even in an age of the advance of culture, to act as the driving power of social revolu- tion. So even the awakening of the Japanese people which blazed at the time of the foreign wars of the Meiji period was not a topic of theory in and for itself but was rather interpreted in terms of the analogy of the old traditional family unity. The Japanese, it was said, were one great family which regarded the Imperial House as the home of its deity. The people as a whole are nothing but one great and unified house, all stemming from an identical ancestor. Thus the entire state is "the house within the household" and the fence that surrounds the latter is broadened in concept to become the boundaries of the state. Within the borders of this state as a whole, there should be the same unreserved and inseparable union that is achieved with- in the household. The virtue that is called filial piety from the aspect of the household becomes loyalty from the standpoint of the state. So filial piety and loyalty are essentially identical, the virtue prescribing the individual in accordance with the interests of the whole. The claims of this loyalty and filial piet}', viewed as a single virtue, include a fair degree of patent irrationalities, whether regarded theoretically or historically. The family is the alpha of all human communities, as being a unit of personal, physical, community life; the state is the omega of all human communities, as being a unit of spiritual community life. The family is the smallest, the state the largest unit of union. The building up of the connection is differ- ent in each. So to regard family and state in the same light as human structures is mistaken. Further, speaking now historically, the filial piety that was stressed so heavily in the Tokugawa period does not by any means exhaust the sum total of the prescriptions laid on the individual in virtue of his membership of the house as a whole. In China, the relationship between father and son was denominated by a separate term but "filial piety" in the Tokuga'ra pe- riod signified only the son's relationship of service to his parents. In the same way, loyalty was understood in the narrow sense of the personal relationship between retainer and feudal lord, and had no connection with the state as a whole. Hence the reverence for the Emperor which symbolised the reversion to the state as a whole was essentially different from loyalty as it was understood in the To- kugawa period. Thus, the fact of the correspondence of the rela- tionship of service to a parent with that of service to one's feudal lord is no proof of the correspondence of loyalty is the sense of reverence for the Emperor (loyalty that is, in the significance not of an individual relationship but of a reversion of the individual to the whole) with filial piety understood as the prescriptions laid on the individual by the family as a whole. Even so, there is a deal of historical sense in the assertion of identity between loyalty and filial piety, both of them directed towards an understanding of the nation as a whole in tenos cf the analogy of the house. This is the familiar trait of the Japanese; the attempt to interpret the nation as a whole in terms of the distinctive Japa- nese way of life. And the simple fact that this particular and unique way of life was feasible hints that while the distinctiveness of the Japanese was best exemplified in the way of life of the household, at the same time in the way of life of the nation as a whole a similar distinctiveness was reflected. In Japan, one-ness of the nation was first interpreted in the religious sense; this is a circumstance of primitive society that can be understood only by way of myths. Before man felt or thought IV .... .... 150 CHAPTER 5 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF IIIONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 5 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 151 N -" N as an individual, his consciousness was that of the group; anything disadvantageous to the livelihood of the group restricted the actions of the individual in the form of a taboo. In a society of this nature, mankind as a whole was conceived in terms of a mystic force, so that a reversion to this mystic force was nothing other than a return to the whole; worship was merely the expression of the whole in terms of the rite of worship. Hence those who directed such rites came to be invested with a god-like authority as being representatives of thi. whole. The rainmaker became Zeus. This is a trend common to primitive religions; but in Japan we can see it in model fashion. As well as hami (deity) Amaterasu Omikami was also the superin- tendent of ritual. The most explicit expression of such conditions is to be found in the fact that ritual became government. Thus the primitive Japanese were a unified religious group secured and guaranteed by such rituals. Although there were sad deficiencies in military and economic organisation and capacity, yet the religious bond created a highly compact solidarity and was primarily the source of their ability to send a considerable military force as far afield as Korea. This is also evident from the nationwide discoveries of tomb-period relics, which indicate the existence of the worship of mirror, jewel and sword. And this community of men as such a religious grouping, just as that of the household, was the community of a fusion of feeling that demanded no awareness from the individual of his identity as an individual. So this religious grouping came to be the most outstanding embodiment of the Japanese way of life. Japan's myths may well show trace of all manner of primitive faiths. Yet the achievement of a compact unification through the agency of a single religious ritual has no parallel in the myths of either Greece or India. In this particular, only those of the Old Testament stand comparison. However the latter make clear distinc- tion between god and man. whereas in Japan there is an affinity between the two, understood in terms of a blood connection. In the Old Testament, God's dealings with man are imbued with a strict and wilful authority; but in Japan, when kami approaches man, he never commands or wills; he is, rather. characterised by a gentle and emotional affection. This character is shown in true form by the descriptions of Amaterasu Omikami (the Sun Goddess). This is no more or less than a proof of the indissoluble unification and quiet affection that characterise the relationship of man within his religious grouping. The gods of Greece are not dissimilar in the fact of their proximity to man; but, in addition, they already reflect a relation- ship based on intellect and on the characteristics of a republican polity. They indicate, in other words, the Greek incapacity of unification within a single ritual. Indissoluble unification within a single ritual was not of the same kind as the union of the spirit of the Christian Church. For, it was a union both in religion and of man, man who is flesh. Hence it was exemplified in the form not of the church of a God that transcend- ed national division. but of a national unity. In the Church of God ritual was concerned in great measure with the soul and did not develop into the handling of the affairs of this life on earth; but ritual in the context of national unity easily became, in another aspect, administration of that nation's affairs. The Emperor, like the Pope, was the representative of the whole; but, unlike the Pope, he was at the same time the sovereign of the state. Hence. the in- separable union of the religious group, as being that of man who is flesh, was realised above all in separation.. So it was in,evitable that passion should be evident. Amaterasu Omikami, characterised by calm affection, could turn into the resolute god of fire and thunder. Here is an indication of the dual-natured "calm in passion" of the national way of life. While being the unity of a religious grouping, this was also very much a union of, and not transcending, this world. It was for this 152 CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 153 reason that this inseparable union was realised in separation. So this coming together always contained the elements of confrontation and of struggle. War had already broken out between the kami- the myths are full of stories of war-so that union founded on a religious grouping could never be characterised by harmony only and achieve complete elimination of such elements of antagonism. This character is what people call the Japanese martial SpIrit. But this latter did not lead the Japanese to anything in the form of a disintegration into innumerable polis. It was through war that a single ritual had been attained and in the same way war showed the path to inseparable union. The achievement of the latter was made possible by the selflessness that lay beneath the martial SpIrIt. The wars that are the subject of the myths were all selfless- though this did not of itself eliminate the spirit of fierceness and fury from such fighting, but resulted rather in the fact that such fierce wars could switch abruptly to unity and harmony. Here again we find the duality of a martial selflessness that characterises the life of the nation. Thus the ancient unification of the nation within this religious grouping has a distinctive character capable of interpretation by the house analogy. It was a passionate and yet placid union, a martial and yet selfless fusion. Because of this distinctive character, the Japa- nese warrior, even in the fiercest of fighting, could still look on his opponent as a brother, for it was not a part of the Japanese spirit to feel unremitting hatred for an enemy. Here we can see the ground in which Japan's morality took seed. Before the evolution of moral concepts, men's actions and minds were evaluated in terms of 'noble' or 'clean', 'dirty' or 'mean'. In this evaluation, there is already a reflection of the distinctive national character. From this distinctive evaluation, we can pick out several outstand- ing elements. In first place, we see here the religious belief that directed the life of the nation towards that of a religious grouping. Nobility was recognised above all in the kami who presided over the ritual; so the motive force that led to unity was the source of ail values. It is expressible in terms of reverence for the Emperor. In second place, value is set on the indissoluble union of man. A gentle heart and quiet affection were attributes indispensable for the great man and such qualities were understood not merely in terms of personal affections within the family circle but as the basis of mutual relation- ships reaching through the nation. In one sense, then, this was esteem of affection between men; but in another sense it became esteem for social justice. In third place, value was set in the nobility that characterised the warrior's selflessness. Valour was noble and beautiful, cowardice mean and unclean. But sheer brute force was ugly and unbecoming, brutality the ugliest of all. For though valour might well exist in it, there was also a strong taint of tenacious and selfish lust, and the nobility of valour lies in its disregard of self. Thus the bravery of the warrior must on all account be accompanied by a selfless resignation. In this sense, nobility and meanness came to be of higher value than life itself. Myths and traditions show that these were the three prime virtues of the ancients. However, in that this characteristic of ancient times was based on the primitive faith of a union through religion, is it still discernible after the swift advance of culture? Could this in- dissoluble union of the nation still persist even after the dawn of a clear awareness of the individual as an entity in himself? The period of which we have been speaking, that of the myths and traditions, and that of the tumuli, culminated in the construc- tion of tomb-mounds of vast grandeur and military contact with Korea. It was, again, the age in which a stout and nation-wide union of the Japanese was achieved as a unification by way of ritual. In this light we can examine also the ages that followed, using as a "" .... w 154 CHAPTER 5 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 5 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 155 link. for this examination the great social upheavals of Japanese history The first such upheaval, nationwide unification in a ritual, achieved a society based on a feudal and religious structure. The feudal lords, in virtue of the religious authority of the Emperor-that of mirror. jewels and sword. that is-represented the entirety of the people of their territories. However, contact with the Chinese and their culture in Korea gradually drained the freshness from these primitive faiths and military and economic power took the place of religious authority as the force by which the local lord exercised sway. At this point unification by ritual came to include elements of unification by administration, a process heralded by a trend towards the centralisa- tion of authority through an increase of shrine officials. Thus it was the very Chinese culture that had undermined the authority of religion that was taken up as the weapon to fashion a new admin- istrative unification. As a result, the formation of centralised authority followed on the overthrow of a primitive feudal society. The Taika Reformation achieved a social structure of national socialism based on the principle of public land ownership; and even such drastic reform could be effected without even the smallest civil disturbance because of the religious authority that lay behind economic power. The third of the great upheavals brought a recrudescence of feudalism in the form of the Kamakura Shogunate. A social system based on joint land ownership was unable to satisfy the natural urge to own something privately and the powerful and the mighty, con- cealed behind their vast manors, the curse of common ownership, worked away quietly for the establishment of private ownership; finally, the military power fostered in such manors brought the second age of feudalism, constituted by a Shogun and the protective manorial lords dependent on him. And even while there was no repeal of tbe legal system current in the period of public owriership, the military dictates of the Shogun came in practice to have the validity of law. The fourth major upheaval was that of the Age of Civil Wars (or Fighting Barons); although feudalism itself was not upset, the con- trolling class was overthrown and its place taken by a force emanat- ing from the people as a result of insurrectionary movements. At the same time, with the development of the town, the economic power of an urban pqpulation began slowly and quietly to overrun power of a military nature. The fifth upheaval, the Meiji Restoration, saw the overthrow once more of feudalism and the achievement again of a centralisation of authority. The Emperor, who had possessed no physical power throughout the long years of feudalism, took precedence as of old over the Shogun and became again the symbol of the nation as a whole. Primitive faiths died hard. Using these several upheavals as a mirror to the age in which they occurred, we can discover to what extent there was a historical realisation of the distinctive national character and of the' moral thinking that grew from it. Reverence for the Emperor, the symbol of unity of the religious grouping, was indeed the motive power behind the Meiji Restoration. Feudal princes attempting to resist this by military power alone could achieve no division among the forces working for the Restoration 'and they disintegrated eventually in the face of the nation as a whole. Again in the fourth upheaval, that of the Age of the Fighting Barons, "nobility" as it was under- stood in appears prominently in the guise of bushido. The essential spirit of bushido was to know shame, to feel ashamed in face of meanness, cowardice, baseness and servility. Here is a model in- stance of morality understood in terms not of good and evil but of the noble and the mean. Again the esteem accorded by antiquity to affection reap'pears in the age of the Kamakura Shogunate during the ascendancy of the all-powerful Kamakura Buddhist tenets of benevolence and charity. The concept of indissoluble union was 156 CHAPTER! THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER! THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 157 understood in terms of a practical realisation of unconditional altru- ism and the goal of action became an affection of the kind that would throwaway life selflessly. High regard for this same affection and the sense of social justice that grew from it are reflected in the theories of joint land ownership of the Taika Reforms, the second upheaval. With the national unity of a religious group backed by the newly adopted Buddhism and its ideals, this was an attempt to realise such ideals in practical fonn. Moral thinking of this nature must be given special attention in our enquiry, for though essentially, of course, it is in no way peculiar to Japan, yet it was understood with a distinctive power in Japan. And it was in the distinctive national traits of the like of a stillness of passion and the selflessness of the warrior that the peculiar character of this realisation was based. (1931) b) The Uniqueness of Japan When asked for my impressions of anything unusual after. my first visit to Europe, all that I could do was to reply with a very firm "No". There was a great deal that impressed me deeply, but in the matter of the rare or the unusual Europe offered nothing of the standard of the Egyptian or Arabian deserts that I saw en route. However, on my return to Japan at the end of my travels, I was made suddenly and keenly aware of the strange character of Japan, a strange- ness in no way inferior to that of the Arabian desert, a strangeness which makes Japan unique in the world. I propose to discuss here the nature of and the reason for this strangeness of which I became aware so suddenly. The word mezurashii (strange) is said to derive from mezuru, meaning "to prize" or "to value"; but, judging from its everyday usage at least, there seems to be no essential connection with the latter. For example, even though there might be some sense of "prizing" the 'wannth' in the context "It is strangely wann for winter", this is certainly not true of the 'cold' in "Its unusually cold". So in essence "strange" and "value" must be set apart. The basic sense of mezurashii is "unusual" or "rare". On the basis of the premise of "the usual" or "the nonnal", it appears as "the unusual" or "the abnonnal". Some degree of appreciation of the nonnal and every- day are essential for the recognition of the abnonnal or the strange. Again the abnormal and the strange are not to be found where every- thing is as usual in what has already been recognised as nonna!. Thus for one who had understood the normal appearance of a land- scape as covered in plantlife, the desert was strange or abnormal in the extreme. But, at the same time, to one who had understood the nonnal appearance of European architecture from examples seen in Japan, European cities, where buildings were as they should be, had nothing strange to offer. Whereas a text-book definition of desert in tenns of the absence of plant-life gives no understanding of desert conditions, the Western architecture of Japan's cities did give me a concrete and positive insight into the conditions of Europe's cities. However, the strangeness that I felt on returning to Japan meant one of two things; either Japan where I had lived for so long and to which my eyes were accustomed, had come to possess qualities different from what I had hitherto considered as normal, or else Japan remained unchanged and it was in my interpretation of the nonnal that there had been the transfonnation. Or perh'l(ls it was not just one of these factors but both of them that were at play. In other words, the nonnal condition in which I had lived and which I had grown used to seeing through the years remained identical; but there was exposed a much more fundamental condition lying underneath the surface which I had failed to perceive hitherto and which was now interpreted as rare or abnonnal in contrast to what I had come to understand previously as nonnal. I'.J ..... IJ1 158 CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 159 Let me clarify this with the aid of a familiar example. Cars and trams are an everyday sight in Japan, so much so that it would be rare for a Japanese, nowadays at least, to marvel at these imports from or copies of the West. So it is not a matter of sensing anything strange about the cars or trams in Europe; rather it is a case of the Japanese being startled at the dirtiness of the taxis. the small dimen- sions of the trams and so on. The latter, for instance, in every town, give an impression of skimpiness (with the sole exception, of the window glass) far greater than the Japanese is accustomed to seeing at home. The underground railways too seem to be on a lighter scale than the Tokyo Government Line. Whether they are in fact smaller in size and lighter in weight is not in question here. (Perhaps, in point of fact, they are. The carriage ceilings on underground rail- ways always seemed to me to be much lower than in Japan.) Anyhow, the fact remains that this is the impression we are given and there is nothing of the strange or the abnormal about this impression. Yet when I came back to Japan and looked at the cars or the trams in the streets, I did indeed feel that I was watching a wild boar rampag- ing through fields. When a tram surges through the houses that line the tracks, they seem to crouch and bow spiritlessly just as the commoner would grovel in face of a feudal lord's procession. The tram is taller than a single-storied house, longer than a house frontage and so stoutly built that if it were to run amuck, one has the impres- sion that it would be the flimsy wooden houses that would be smashed into smithereens by its powerful onsurge. When a tram passes. it completely blots from view the houses on the opposite side of ~ street and only the sky can be seen above its roof. Even a car seems to loom large in Japan; in a narrow street it appears to block the way like a whale in a canal and it can even seem both taller and somehow longer than a house. But in Europe these means of com- munication are dwarfed by the houses; they are treated as tools of communication, as retainers in the service of city or individual, and their appearance fits their status perfectly. Yet in Japan these tools or servants overwhelm and overbear man, his house and even his town. Cars and trams are the same in both cases only in the matter of appearance and, roughly speaking, size; yet it is indeed remarkable and unusual that these identical objects can have inherent in them such a different balance-or lack of it-with their surroundings, be it house or town. Previously, I had not noticed any such dispropor- tion, and when I went to Europe and saw these objects in their original proportion I felt only that they were small and did not spot any basic difference in balance. In objects seen everyday no absence of proportion was noticed; in addition, the original propor- tion, as being customary, was regarded as the most apt. However, after the return, this absence of proportion was both recognisable and strange, for there was now the realisation that although one had understood what was regarded as the most apt proportion, its defects had not been noticed even though they stared one in the face. So, working from it as a basis, one made a patent discovery of the defects of what was originally regarded as in proportion. The absence of balance thus discovered (a true condition of the urban scene in Japan) was already a part of what has been for long felt to be the tangle and the disorder characterising Japan's modem civilisation. But we never appreciated that it was exemplified in such open, naked, candid and laughably strange terms. We, the Japanese, approached the problems of widening roads and facilitating car or tram transport only from the aspect of convenience, which only served to magnify the lack of balance between car, tram and road on the one hand, and house or town on the other. We are given modem, first-class roads one after another by our new city-planners; in dimension and the matter of pavements they are up to the standard of those of any European city. But in Europe, roads of this kind 160 CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 161 are lined by rows of tall tenement houses, a hundred of them even lining a short street. The ratio of street area to house then is very small. The same length of street in Japan would be lined by only a dozen or so houses, even allowing for the houses to be of the same frontage. Japan's houses, flat and low in the urban areas at least, seem to bite the ground; only the roads, open to the sky, give any sense of spaciousness and as a result their most obvious functions seem to be to offer free passage to the wind and to act as a collect- ing place for swirls of dust. In Europe's cities, even though there is little rain and wind to bring rubbish, the matter of keeping roads as dean and tidy as a corridor within a house is no light burden economically, even when the ratio of road surface per house is as insignificant as it is. The cost of the same task in Japan, where rainfall is heavy and mud plentiful, where the rubbish output is high-because of humidity-and where again the area of road surface per house is several times larger, would no doubt rise to ten times the figure for Europe. Roads as extravagant as this, broad and open to the sky, holding back rows of houses far meaner than any in Europe-these are Japan's wonderful, perhaps tOO wonderful, roads. In Japan the road is no longer a practical tool used for purposes of communication; it has become an extravagant luxury for which, for some reason or other, man is prepared to make his life miserable. Such roads, to seek for a more basic origin, spring from the unduly wide and sprawling structure of the Japanese city. If New York is the best example in the world of a city suffering from height, then Tokyo is the most appropriate instance of a city suffering because of its sprawling character. The area covered by Tokyo's houses is said, for instance, to be several times that of Paris; even if the areas were identical, the drains that are adequate for Paris (to confine ourselves to the matter of the difference in rainfall only) would be far from satisfactory in the case of Tokyo. And since Tokyo's area is several times that of Paris, Tokyo would require several times the amount of public facilities that suffice for Paris, with the result that it would only be at a fantastic outlay that Tokyo could be equipped with merely the basic and essential facilities of a modern capital. To change the wording; Tokyo's sprawling nature is the precise antithesis of the character most suitable to the installation of facilities appropriate to the modern city. It is not only a question of drainage; the remarkable extension of roads and tram routes, the vast amount of electric cable and gas piping that is required, the time and the nervous energy consumed in travelling-all these, it could be alleged with reason, stem from Tokyo's sprawling character. In Japan, in other words, the greater the city the greater the in- convenience. Both economically and mentally, urban life demands tremendous outlay, yet life does not become in the least any more pleasant. And in the last analysis, this all comes back to the absence of proportion between city and house. Then why do Japan's houses, completely out of balance with cars, trams, even with roads and cities, still continue to grovel almost at ground level, truly and grotesquely small in the midst of a great city? It will be said this is all rooted in an economic cause; that Japan is not as rich as Europe and that this is why high-storied build- ings do not soar upwards toward the sky above Tokyo. But when one considers the immense waste as a result of the sprawling, it is difficult to accept this reason. If one totalled the construction cost of several dozen grovelling little shacks and added in land expenses and those of the various sources of waste mentioned above, it would be difficult to say which were the cheaper-this, or a tall and imposing ferro-concrete building. So it is not because of the lack of economic power that the Japanese do not build such tall buildings in their cities. The true reason is simply that the latter are not constucted by associational or cooperative methods. So we must ask now why 162 CHAPTEll 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATUIlE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTEll 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATUIlE or MONSOON CUMATE 16S N -" 00 the Japanese fail to choose this method when it is the more convenient. the more pleasant, and the only method which achieves results worthy of the word city. One must look to the house itself to discover the reason. So our next problem is the character and the circumstances of the Japanese house. The house in most European cities, with the exception of the homes of the rich, is not an individually inhabited and separate structure. You enter a building and there are doors to your right and left, each a "house"; you climb a staircase and again there are "houses" to right and left, each with its door, ten of them on the fifth floor, twelve on the sixth and so on, each leading off from the corridor and each a "house". Again if you go from the entrance through the garden to another entrance way, you find an identical staircase and an identical passage with the same significance leading up and through the same building. This passage is, so to speak, an extension of the road; its original purpose, in fact, is to serve as a road or a pathway. So if you go along this "street" and go through any of the "house" doorways, you come to another corridor or passage, leading through the centre of the house, on to which open the doors of individual rooms. These doors can all be locked so that each room by one motion of the hand can be made into an independent and self-contained "house". Such a room can be lived in as a house, with those who do not belong to the family unable to cause any trouble or worry. In this sense, then, even the passageway inside a house has all the qualifications of a street, as is shown very distinctly by the fact that when the postman delivers a registered letter to a person renting a single room, he must go through the corridor in the middle of the building and then through the passageway inside the house to reach the addressee's room. Nor is it only the postman; it is the same in the case of the errand.boy from the book shop or the depart- ment store. In this instance, it is the interior of the individual's room that corresponds to the porch of the Japanese house. If this be the case, then the street reaches right up to the door of this room and its occupant thus has direct contact both with street and town. But this can also be regarded from completely the opposite point of view. The occupant of the room goes into the house passage- way in the same clothing as he wears customarily in his own room; to go into the next corridor, he may just stick on his hat. He goes down the stairway and out of the building into the "corridor" beyond- the street-with no further change of or additions to his clotping. This street is washed by the rain in the mornings so that it is no dirtier than the corridor inside the building; (indeed, there are instances where it is the latter that is dirtier than the asphalt road). In fact the only differences between the two are that, in the case of the street, the sky appears and there are no means of keeping it warmed in winter. Someone may go across the street to a restaurant or to a coffee shop to listen to music or play cards. There is no difference between this action and that of walking along a long cor- ridor to the dining room or the reception room of a large mansion. Nor is this restricted to someone living alone in a single room; it occurs every day in. the case of a whole family. The gathering of the Japanese family in the living room to gossip or listen to the radio has the same significance as the visit of the European to the coffee shop to listen to music or to play cards. Coffee shop equals sitting room; street equals corridor. In this light, the entire town is the equivalent of a single house. If a man locks his door and goes thus beyond the one barrier that separates him from society, he enters public restaurants, public tea-rooms, public libraries and gardens. Thus corridor is street and street corridor; there is no distinct barrier between the two. For, in one aspect, the scope of the mean ing of "house" is narrowed down to a single room, in another it is 164 CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 165 broadened to include the whole of the town. In other words, house is not duly significant; only individual and society are left. But in Japan, where there is no question of corridor becoming street or street becoming corridor, the house stands out most distinctly of all. Its barrier, be it porch or door, establishes a positive separa- tion between street and corridor, between without and within. A Japanese takes off his shoes as soon as he enters a porch at;ld does not put them on again until he goes beyond it. Nor does postman or errand-boy pass further than this barrier. Coffee shop and restau- rant are entirely different buildings, in no sense the equivalent in purpose of the dining room or the living room within the house. The latter are private to a degree with not the slightest character of the public about them. This is the type of house that the Japanese prefer to live in and in which only they can relax. However small it be, this is the sort of requirement they ask for in a house. Now what is the attrac- tion that prompts such attachment? On the outside, the house is quite detached from the street; but within, there is nothing of the nature of the independence of an individual room. Fusuma and shoji do act as partitions but they have no atmosphere of an indica- tion of a desire for antagonistic or protective separation of the kind expressed by the turning of a key in a lock; nor indeed do they possess the capabilities of becoming such. Fustlma and shoji have no power of resistance against anyone desiring to open them and their function as partitions, in a sense that is, always depends on the trust of others and their respect of the expression of the wish for separa- tion indicated by the simple fact that they are drawn. In other words, within the "house", the Japanese feels neither need of protection against others nor any distinction between himself and others. A key indicates a desire for separation from the desires of others while fusuma and shoji show a unification of desires and are no more than a means of partitioning a room in this spirit of absence of separation. They have only the significance of a screen in the centre of a Western room. Within the house, there is no brandishing of keys as protectors of the individual's property. Thus the characteristics of the Japanese house are an absence of internal partitioning and the variety of the forms of key (including tall fences and formidable thickets) as pro- tections against the world outside. So the attraction lies in this tiny centre of unity in the middle of the wide world. But, it will no doubt be asked, is it not possible also to preserve such a tiny world in the European tenement house? However, this kind of building demands common action when it is ~ under construc- tion and again for its very existence it anticipates an attitude of those who live in it. Even if a room does not look immediately on to a passageway and has no means of direct intercourse with that next to it, yet it is still only a part of a much larger structure and sharing of facilities-for heating, hot water, the elevator-is inevitable. Such sharing, such community living is just what gives the Japanese his greatest misgivings and leads him to create his firmest partition be- tween his house and the world outside. Europe's strongest partition in the past was the city wall; now it is the state frontier. Neither of these exist in Japan. Castle towns came to have a perimeter moat and dyke in the years just before and after the Momoyama period, but these were defensive works built by a group of samurai in prepara- tion for attack from outside and were not the symbols of a desire on the part of the town to create a barrier or partition between itself and other such urban centres. So it is the fence or the wall round the house or the locked door in Japan that corresponds to Europe's city ~ l l Thus in the same way as the European has been conditioned and disciplined over the years by the world within his city wall, so the Japanese has been moulded within his much more confined world inside his house. Within the city wall men came into 166 CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE 167 IV IV o a group directed against the common enemy and protected their lives by their combined powers; any danger to joint interests was a danger to the individual's and to his neighbour's very existence. Cooperation became the basis and the keynote of life and prescribed every detail of life. Recognition of duty stood far in the forefront of that of any moral claims. Yet at the same time, cooperation, the submergence of the individual in most other cases, here gave a strong stimulus to individuality, so that the individual's rights, the correlative of his obligations, stood in the same way in the forefront of recognition. So the symbols of this way of life are "wall" and "key". But inside of the small world within the fence in Japan, cooperation did not envisage a common enemy endangering life but sprang rather from a natural affection so strong that it would readily call forth a spirit of complete self-sacrifice. Affection stands in front of awareness of obligation in the relationships between man and wife, parent and child, elder and younger brother; for though the individual gladly effaces himself yet in such effacement he still feels fullness in life. If cooperation depends on the individual for its full development, then it was only natural that it made little advance within this small world where the individual effaced himself so readily. In such cir- cumstances, the individual never thought of standing on his rights nor did he come to the point of recognising the obligations involved in associational life. The environment prompted the advance of the delicate feelings appropriate to it, sympathy, modesty, reserve and consideration. Such feelings only had currency within the house and lost their validity in any relations with the unfriendly world outside; so the reverse of the picture is that one step beyond the porch of the Japanese house brought the preparedness for dealings with an aggressive enemy that went naturally with an outlook so unsociable. Hence the fence round the Japanese house corresponds exactly to the European city wall and the key. Thus the more insistent the demand for the abolition of reserve within the house, the more intense becomes the repugnance for cooperation outside. The Europeanisation and Americanisation of Japanese society is indeed too plain to be gainsaid. Yet however conspicuous this be on the surface, as long as the old Japanese house continues to spraWl and grovel stubbornly in the midst of Japan's cities, in other words, as long as there exists this absence of balance that must be unique in the whole world, Japanese society will never succeed in breaking away from its roots in the past. Japanese wear Western clothes; they walk, in Western shoes, on asphalt roads; they ride in cars and trams and work in offices on the n-th floor of a Western style building which has Western furniture, electric lighting and steam-heat. One is tempted to ask, "Is there anything of Japan left?" And when it has all been listed, with Western fountain pen in Western style account book, it all comes back again to the house. "But is not this house, even, a building on Western models?", it may well be asked. External- ly, it is. But it has a gate, a fence, a hallway; and, after all, funnily enough, the Japanese must still remove his shoes at the doorway. Here, not one of the qualifications of the Japanese house has been lost. So that the problem concerns not so much the size as the cir- cumstances of this house. If a man wished to live in a house of this style in a European city, then, if nothing else, he must at least be rich. Why should it be then, that the man with the kind of income that in Europe would force him to live in a not very high- class terrace-house can live, not with any undue sense of distress or stringency, in a house with this kind of qualification? The answer is simple; the so-called Western style Japanese house, at basis, is not European in the least. Let us foUow the man who wears his Western clothes in his European style house. He has a lawn and flower beds in his front garden; sometimes there may even be a gardener to tend them. These 168 CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF MONSOON CLIMATE CHAPTER' THE DISTINCTIVE NATURE OF ~ l S CLIMATE 169 are all for his and his family's delectation. Yet he shows not the slightest concern for the city park, for it is outside of his own house and so belongs to someone else. And this is the outlook of everyone else; the city park belongs to some other person, it is not "mine" and so it receives no loving care or protection. It is run by the city so that apart from the officials whose concern it is, noone feels any obligations in respect of it. So a matter that affects the city jointly does not attract the interest of the citizens generally but is left in the care of a handful of not too honest politicians. So there may be any amount of mismanagement, yet to the man living in his Western style house this is beyond his own four walls and so beyond his own ken. He, instead, in that he lives Western style, has "new" interests, such as his children's education. The moment his child blithely commits some dishonesty, then he sets his whole heart to the matter and is intensely concerned. But a piece of dis- honest practice on the part of a politician in a matter of public concern does not even spur a hundredth part of such zeal. Again, even when he watches society, managed by these politicians, heading gradually towards a crisis as a result of their evil and corrupt practices, his reaction is that, after all, this is outside of his own house and that no doubt someone somewhere is assuming responsibility. Thus he has no determined or even clearly formulated attitude to such a problem. In other words, he does not regard the affairs of society as his own; which, of itself, indicates how little he is Europeanised. In spite of the Western clothes in which Japanese parliamentary government has been conducted from the very first, the Japanese do not concern themselves in affairs of such public moment with the same zeal that they show for matters affecting their own person. There will always be something laughable about the Japanese par- liamentarian as long as he tries to imitate a style of government con- ditioned by the discipline of communal life within a city wall while yet trying to do away with this basic discipline. The Japanese lavished most concern and value on his house; the lord of the manor could change and provided that the new lord, whoever he might be, in no way menaced his home, the Japanese gave the matter not the slightes concern. Even if there was a threat, it might be evaded by resigna- tion and acquiescence. Thus, however servile the labours he was forced to perform, they did not impinge upon his intimate life within his own family circle. But, in contrast, within the city wall any resignation to a threat meant to the individual the loss of his all, so that common and aggressive resistance was the only method by which to preserve individuality. In the former instance, then, the development of acquiescence went hand in hand with indifference to public matters while in the latter, together with a keen interest and a ready participation in public affairs there arose an esteem for the claims of the individual. Only in the latter case was democracy really possible; only there did the election of representatives have true significance and only there could there exist public opinion- of the people as a whole. The red flag hanging from one window on the day of a Communist demonstration, the Imperial flag hanging from that next door on the day of a nationalist demonstration-such clear manifestations of a formed attitude together with a readiness to recognise one's duties as a citizen by a ready participation in such demonstrations are elements that democracy cannot afford to lack. But such concern on the part of the people at large just does not exist in Japan and, as a result, politics have become the specialised occupation of power-mongers. One of the most outstanding instances of this is that what goes by the name of a proletarian movement is in fact merely that of a coterie of leaders; it includes hardly any or at best only a handful of people to be led. It is not that this indicates a basic hollowness in such movements; rather, just as the Japanese show no care for a public park, so also the people at large IV IV ..... 170 CHAPTER. 3 THE DISTINCTIVE NATUU OF MONSOON CLIMATE view anyIhing of a public nature as something outside themselves and so the concern of someone else. So there is no heartfelt or deep concern in something like economic revolution which, after all, is a public problem. Instead a far greater wealth of concern is lavished on matters confined to their life within the walls of their own house. So just as parliamentary government does not truly reflect general opinion, proletarian movements are in the same way, strictly speak- ing, those of proletariat .leaders only and are in themselves no indica- tion of the existence of a crystallised public opinion among the proletariat at large. There are close affinities in this particular be tween Japan and Russia. Russia is autocratic and its people in general have never participated in government; this is closely paral- leled by the indifference of the Japanese to matters of public concern and their lack of a cooperative attitude to life. So this further instance of Japan's rarity or strangeness-the fact that there are movements with leaders only-can be said to be based on the distinction between "house" and "outside". Many more examples of Japan's rarity could be adduced. They all stem from the character of the Japanese house and they all, in the last analysis are reducible to the old familiar street scene of the strangely tiny house cowering and grovelling in the path of the on- coming tram, rampaging like a wild boar. This is a sight the Japa- nese sees every day; whether he is aware of its full significance or not, he no doubt feels in his heart of hearts that it is something of a forlorn spectacle. (Drafted 1929) N N N